


all for one, one for all

by BlackJacketsandPens



Series: packbonding [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, also tousen is a jerk, casual platonic cuddlepiles are absolutely a thing in this household, don't fuck with the pack or he'll fuck with you back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: Di Roy is the weak link, so of course he'll get caught alone. But if you mess with Grimmjow's pack, you mess with the Sexta himself.





	all for one, one for all

When it came to his pack -- his Fracciones, that was the term Aizen gave the Espada’s tagalongs, another stupid word no one needed -- Grimmjow was pretty lenient. They could do whatever they felt like, and they didn’t have to hang around him all the time like leeches. No such rule as ‘keep out of trouble’, either. Honestly, there were no rules. Just...guidelines. Don’t fuck up where Aizen could catch you. Don’t fuck up where Ulquiorra could, either, ‘cause he didn’t give a shit who belonged to who. And especially don’t fuck up around the new shinigami that was starting to hang around, the one with the orange scarf and thick glasses -- he was just _looking_ for a reason to spout bullshit about laws and justice and punish someone for toeing out of line.

He didn’t seem to understand that laws and rules had no place in Hueco Mundo -- but it was just something else the shinigami were forcing onto them, another bit of humanity Aizen was boxing them into.

The other Espada had their Fracciones on a tighter leash because of it, or for their own reasons, Grimmjow had noticed. Starrk just had the one -- more like a two-man pack than anything -- but that was the exception. Baraggan treated his six like servants, keeping them strictly in line, and they seemed happy with the extra shackles. Disgusting, Grimmjow thought. They had no freedom even within the fancy sunlit cage Aizen had them all in. The next Espada with Fracciones was Nnoitra, and that pussy was even more whipped than any of the old man’s. Nnoitra beat his ass regularly, and Grimmjow had a feeling Tesla just kept crawling back for more. He didn’t understand that.

After him, there was just Szayel, and he _really_ didn’t want to know what kept happening to the scientist’s Fracciones.

In any case, Grimmjow just let his pack run free -- they’d all find themselves in a pile on the bed at the end of the day, anyway, and he knew they wouldn’t go anywhere without him. He didn’t want to take their freedom; they were a pack, after all. That relied on them respecting his strength and following him because they _wanted_ to. Because they knew he was strong. If he forced it, it just wouldn’t be the same.

Still, though...today seemed a bit different, and it wasn’t until they’d all been crashed in the area of their quarters with all the couches for a while that Grimmjow noticed.

“...Oi, where the fuck’s Di Roy?” He asked, sitting up with a frown.

Yylfordt, whose lap he’d been sprawled on, rubbed his chin where Grimmjow had whacked it with his head and looked around. “He’s not here?” He said, confused. “I thought…”

“I haven’t seen him most of the day,” Edrad said after a moment from where he was flopped against Nakeem. “He said he was gonna go sit on the roof for a while, but that was the last I heard.”

Shawlong, folded into one of the squishy chairs, frowned deeply. “We should go look for him,” he said. “He isn’t one to linger alone for too long.”

That was true enough; Di Roy was the weakest of them, even weaker than Nakeem. He knew it, too, and so he tended to stay in the vicinity of one of the other pack members as much as possible. Las Noches was a den of sharks, after all, and a weakling alone was like blood in the water. Grimmjow stood immediately, heading for the door, and so did the rest of them. “Split up,” he said. “Look for his reiatsu. First one to find him lets the rest of us know.”

“Got it, boss,” the others chorused, and they broke off in different directions. Grimmjow was-- he was angry. He knew Di Roy, knew him enough to know something must have happened, and he was pissed. What kind of fucking idiot went after something that belonged to him? Didn’t they know the consequences?

He stopped once he was out in the sands of Las Noches, under that stupid dome that shone warm, fake sun down upon the towers. Fists clenched, he closed his eyes to search the area with Pesquisa -- Di Roy had to be within the palace _somewhere_...there! It was weak, but there was his reiatsu. He shot off in that direction, the anger simmering in his chest joined by something he wasn’t quite sure there was a name for. Not fear, he wasn’t afraid -- but...he didn’t know if Di Roy was hurt, and how bad, and that was-- that not knowing ate at him.

That feeling didn’t get better when he finally found him. He was sitting slumped against one of the towers near the dome’s wall, his uniform and the sand beneath him splattered in crimson. Grimmjow swore, heading to his side and kneeling. He wasn’t dead; if he was he’d have disappeared already. But he was a mess, bruised and bleeding. “Di Roy! Oi, Di Roy!” Grimmjow shook his shoulder, growling. “Oi!”

Di Roy groaned weakly, his visible eye opening. “Boss…?” He managed, and then forced a toothy grin onto his face. “Hey, boss...did you miss me? Sorry…”

“Shut up,” Grimmjow told him, gritting his teeth in frustration “What the fuck happened? Who did this?”

“It’s-- it’s okay,” Di Roy said, wiping some blood off his face. “You don’t have to go to bat for me, it’s-- it’s nothin’. I’m fine, Grimmjow, it’s cool.”

“It ain’t fine,” Grimmjow snarled, grabbing Di Roy around the waist and hauling him over his shoulder, already heading back to their quarters. The other Arrancar yelped, but didn’t fight it, falling limp and sighing. “You’re my pack. Any fucker who messes with you messes with me. So _who did this?”_

Di Roy was quiet for a moment, only to yelp when Grimmjow deliberately jostled him. “Okay, okay,” he said finally. “It was some of Baraggan’s Fracciones...the one with the tiger skull mask and the guy who doesn’t wear a shirt, the one with red tattoos. They...they came after me when I was comin’ back from sitting on top of the dome…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry, Grimmjow,” he repeated. “I’m so weak, I couldn’t even…”

“S’fine,” Grimmjow told him, cutting him off. “Yeah, you’re weak, but that doesn’t give ‘em the right to kick you around. You’re mine, and they know that. Goin’ after the weakest of someone’s pack when they’re alone is a pussy-ass strategy. If they wanted to fuck with us, they should fuck with _all_ of us.” He kicked the door to their quarters open and dropped him in one of the chairs. “I’ll tell the others you’re here. Don’t leave, and from now on don’t wander off by yourself, got it?”

Di Roy folded in on himself, staring up at Grimmjow a little pathetically. “Got it,” he said quietly. “Boss, are you gonna go find the two that…”

“Obviously,” Grimmjow said with a snort. “They’ve gotta get taught not to fuck with someone’s pack.”

* * *

The others had all headed back to their quarters on Grimmjow’s orders when he’d found them -- most of them; he’d sent Shawlong to get one of the medic Arrancars for Di Roy first -- and that left Grimmjow to go hunt down the two little shits on his own. That was fine for him, really. If they were gonna target the straggler like that, they didn’t deserve respect in turn. And they were Fracciones, anyway. Not even a challenge.

He found the two of them in a hall in one of the outer towers, talking to one of their companions, a blond guy with a mask covering his the top half of his face. He didn’t know any of their names, but names weren’t important. What was important was the descriptions, and the fact that the tiny one with the tiger mask was _bragging_ about trashing ‘the Sexta’s wimpy Fraccion’. Fucker thought it was funny, huh?

Grimmjow didn’t even pause to say anything to them, just shot across the hall and grabbed both of their heads, slamming them both into the wall hard enough to smash them right through it. The blond one let out a loud, startled yelp, looking between the two new holes in the wall and Grimmjow, before stepping back and holding his hands up. “I’m not getting involved,” he said. “They’re on their own.”

Tiger Mask pried himself out of the wall first. “Oi, Findorr, you jackass!” He yowled. “Don’t be a fucking pussy--” Grimmjow cut him off, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him in the air, using a foot to kick the tattooed one back down and stepping on his neck hard.

“Who’s the pussy?” He asked, squeezing Tiger Mask’s throat. “The guy smart enough to fuck off when it’s not his fight, or the two of you, who went after the weakest one in my pack when he was all alone? ‘Cause that seems pretty damn cowardly to me. Didn’t think you could take us in a fair fight all together?”

He slammed Tiger Mask against the wall. “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna retaliate when I found out? Did you think I wasn’t gonna find out what you shitstains did? Di Roy is _mine_ , weak or not, and if you fuck with one of my pack, you fuck with _me_.”

He leapt off the tattooed one, letting him up just long enough for him to stand and then throwing Tiger Mask at him. Tattooed Guy caught his smaller companion in one hand and fired off a red-orange cero with the other. Grimmjow batted it aside with his wrist, shooting forward so that the follow-up dark pink one from Tiger Mask went right over his head.

“You can do better than that!” Grimmjow taunted. “Here, let me show you how it’s done!” With a sweeping kick, he knocked the two of them off-balance, leaping back again to level one of his own cero at the pair of them. He barely registered Findorr shrieking in distress and leaping through one of the holes in the wall to get out of the way, focusing on the dual ceros being charged again by the two Fracciones. They really thought even two at once would be enough to dissipate his? He was a fucking _Espada._ They didn’t stand a chance--

“Bakudō 61, _Rikujōkōrō_.”

Almost immediately, the three lights of the ceros in the hall vanished, the three combatants dropping to their knees as six pillars of white light slammed into them, trapping their arms by their sides. The tattooed Fraccion dropped to his knees, swearing loudly, and Tiger Mask fell out of his limp arm with a yowl like an angry cat. Grimmjow remained standing, though, breaking out of the spell restraint with a snarl. “Who the _fuck_ \--?!” He demanded, whipping around to stare at the newcomer that had come up behind them.

It was the new shinigami, the dark-skinned one with the orange scarf. He stood in the hall, staring down the scene with hidden eyes, one hand still raised. “What is going on here?” He asked. “Fighting amongst ourselves? Tell me who started this.”

“He did!” The tiger masked one yelped almost immediately. “He attacked us first!”

Grimmjow snarled. “Oh, don’t fucking act like you’re innocent, you bastard!” He said, rounding on him. “You went after Di Roy first, you brought this shit on yourself!”

“If these Fracciones attacked one of yours, you should have come to Aizen-sama or myself,” the shinigami said. Grimmjow noticed he had none of the false kindness or vague smiles Aizen had; he was serious, painfully so, kind of like Ulquiorra. Serious and stern -- and Grimmjow already hated that. “The laws of Las Noches are not meant to be upheld through such unnecessary bloodshed.”

“That’s exactly what they’re meant to do,” Grimmjow snapped. “That’s how Hueco Mundo’s always worked. There are no fucking rules around here, no fucking laws. It’s just whoever’s strongest. We’re not _you,_ shinigami. Stay the fuck out of it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the shinigami said. “You are under Aizen-sama’s rule now, and his word is law. If we allow the same chaos here that there is in Hueco Mundo, there would be naught but bloodshed, and you would all remain just as you were before -- animals.”

Grimmjow snarled. “You fuckers think you can just walk in here and build your palace and make us like you, but we’re not!” He snapped at the shinigami. “We’ve _always_ done things our own way, and we don’t need _you_ to tell us how to act every single fucking second, shinigami! If I want to defend my pack my way, then I fucking _will_ , no matter what you or Aizen says about it!”

He turned back to the Fracciones, but the spell holding them had either faded or been broken, and they’d fled. Faced with the inability to finish the fight, he turned on the shinigami with a fury in his eyes and a wordless roar on his lips. He leapt at the shinigami, who simply sighed, shaking his head. “Hadō 33, _Sōkatsui_ ,” he said, holding his hands up, and Grimmjow threw his hands over his face as the blast knocked him down the hallway and into the wall where it ended.

He staggered to his feet with a snarl, charging down the hall with a hand on his sword, but even as he did so, the shinigami drew his own. “Cry, Suzumushi,” he said simply, holding it point down as if he wasn’t even bothered by the furious Espada coming at him. And he wasn’t -- the sword emitted a shriek, loud and piercing, and Grimmjow dropped to the floor with a cry, covering his ears. The shriek just kept going, loud and ringing, and he could only glare weakly up at the shinigami as he approached, crouching in front of him. “I recommend learning to control that bloodthirsty nature of yours, Arrancar,” he said. “Lest Aizen-sama deem you more trouble than you’re worth.”

He stood, and Grimmjow watched him walk away even as his vision faded, the sound of the shinigami’s Zanpakutō causing him to pass out.

* * *

Grimmjow limped back into his quarters a little later, sore and angry, and was only slightly mollified to see that Di Roy was looking better, bandaged and cleaned up. “Boss!” Edrad yelped, standing (and causing Yylfordt to protest from his spot half-draped on the larger Arrancar). “What happened?”

“Fucking shinigami son of a bitch,” Grimmjow grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “The new one. Wouldn’t even let me finish pounding those two fucks into the ground, said it wasn’t how shit worked around here. What a _joke_.”

Shawlong rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t understand the law of Hueco Mundo,” he said simply, leaning his head on a hand. “Does he think he can force things to operate like they do in his world? That’s ridiculous. Aizen really doesn’t understand us, does he?”

“Not at all,” Grimmjow said, walking over to steal Edrad’s seat on the couch. Yylfordt shifted position to sprawl against Grimmjow’s shoulder, and Edrad picked Di Roy up out of the nearby chair, putting him on the floor and stealing his seat in turn. “Every day the bastards try to make us more like they want, and it’s fucking stupid. One of these days…”

He trailed off, unable to really articulate his thought, but they all knew it. They may be loyal to Aizen on the surface, working with him for power and in return for becoming Arrancar, but they weren’t loyal in spirit. When it came down to it, they refused to be content in the chains they’d picked up. They didn’t belong to him, and they’d rebel any way they could. Even if for now it was only in words.

Di Roy swatted Edrad’s leg from his new spot on the floor before heading over to the couch, crawling into Grimmjow’s lap. “That shinigami jerk did that ‘cause you were going after Baraggan’s Fracciones?” He asked. “Then...it’s kinda my fault, isn’t it? You only went after them in the first place because of me.”

“I went after them ‘cause of you, yeah, but so what?” Grimmjow asked, flicking Di Roy’s cheek in annoyance. “Don’t fucking apologize, Di Roy, you _know_ I hate that.”

“So-- oh,” Di Roy muttered. “I mean...you really didn’t have to, anyway. You know I’m weak. There’s no point in standing up for me if it’s just gonna keep happening…I can’t really change it.”

“I don’t care,” Grimmjow said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re weak, sure. I’m not gonna lie about that. You’re a total fucking wimp. But you’re _our_ wimp, and the pack protects what belongs to it. Always. Got that?” He glanced around at the others. “We protect what’s ours. I thought we decided that ages ago. You follow me, and I take care of you. Am I right?”

The others laughed. “He’s got a point, Di Roy,” Yylfordt said, rapping his knuckles on the other’s mask. “We all swore that. So yeah, you’re a little pansy, and we’re never gonna stop giving you shit about that, but you’re one of us. Always gonna _be_ one of us, brother, got that?”

Di Roy grinned, clearly trying not to sniffle. “Got it,” he said. “Thanks, you guys. Thanks, boss.”

“Ugh, don’t thank me,” Grimmjow muttered, looking away in embarrassment and rubbing the back of his neck. “Makes me feel weird.”

The others laughed, Yylfordt elbowing him in the side, and Grimmjow joined in. This was his pack, a bunch of stupid assholes, maybe, but his stupid assholes. And he’d promised them -- if they stood at his back, he’d protect them. He’d stand in front of them and make sure they were alright if they just followed him. And they knew he would, saw his strength firsthand.

They trusted him to be strong, and he was strong. And in return, he knew they’d always be behind him, be at his back. That was what packs did, right? They followed the leader, the strongest one, and the leader fought for them. They were weak, he was strong and together they were a pack.

And Aizen could do or say whatever bullshit he wanted, try to control them or tame them, but that was one thing that wouldn’t change.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'll come out and say it: this was absolutely brought on and inspired by how rude Yylfordt and Edrad were when Di Roy died. You guys are bros, holy shit, don't be so rude. He may be a wimp but he's their wimp, and they may trash him, but at the end of the day...you don't fuck with the pack.
> 
> I enjoyed immensely the thought of Grimmjow putting Ggio and Abirama through a wall, and Findorr's OH HOLY FUCK reaction to the entire thing is hilarious. Sadly Tousen ruins the fun. I'm not sure how I feel about his dialogue; I'm not sure if I got him right. But given his attitude with Grimmjow later when he loses his arm, there had to be more than one incident before that, so...
> 
> I feel like these bros are so comfortable with each other -- we don't know how long they hung out pre-Arrancar, but I feel like it was A WHILE -- that they'd all just casually lie on each other and stuff. Platonic affection comes real easy when you've been a group forever, and it's pack instinct, I guess?
> 
> (And the last bit is just a bit of unnecessary cruelty on my part as the author. Sorry, Grimm, it won't last :'D)


End file.
